Choices Made Always Have Consequences
by gaelicboops
Summary: "The self styled Lord Voldemort and proven Dark Lord was more than a tad irked when he could not apparate directly into Malfoy Manor as was his custom." Life is all about second chances and this second chance is all about life.
1. Sins of the Father

**Disclaimer: I don't own it. **There will undoubtedly be certain aspects or concepts of this story that readers recognize from other authors on this site. Don't be too surprised since I read far more fanfiction than is probably healthy. I'm not trying to claim originality.

This chapter is rated T. Future chapters should have a lower rating.

* * *

_Choices Made Always Have Consequences_

**Chapter 1: Sins of the Father**

**April 12, 1998**

Lucius Malfoy had seen better days. Point of fact he was starting to miss the good old days of annoying interfering privacy impinging Ministry raids searching for dark artifacts. The good old days before his Master's return and days when his wife was happy and his son was young and innocent.

There was to be a gathering today. The entire inner circle plus several middle management Death Eaters. His home, his splendid ancestral home had been appropriated by his Master. As with so many things under the Dark Lord's service there had been no volunteering. It was done because his Master wished it. His home and his wand were no longer his own. He and his family were now prisoners in there own home. Lucius knew that once his Master arrived he and his wife would be required to present their son and give an explanation for his sudden illness and anti-social attitude.

His son, his little dragon. The only child they had conceived and not lost to miscarriage or still birth. It had been four weeks since his son and only heir had last spoken to him (with one notable exception). It had been one week since that same heir had become an adult and come into his magical inheritance. It had been 27 minutes and 32 seconds since his wife's presence had been requested by their son and she had been popped into his room with the assistance of little Muzzy. Poor little Muzzy wasn't really old enough to serve yet but had been left with little choice after Bellatrix had killed all the other elves in the manor.

Four weeks ago Muzzy became an orphan and was ordered by Bellatrix to bury the three adult elves as a lesson against any possible future indiscretions. Dear old Bella had raged for hours and then gone silent shortly before she tore off to the kitchens. Narcissa had told him after the fact that her "dear" sister had reasoned that since an elf had helped them escape than an elf could have stopped it.

A week ago at the minute of the anniversary of his son's first breath Mr. Malfoy's fears were realized. His wife, who was already upset with him about a great many other things, was ready to feed him to the Peacocks when he finally came clean about his not-so-pure-after-all blood line. The little family of three was gathered in Draco's bedroom. Lucius was hurriedly trying to explain to his panicked wife about the uncertainty of the diluted blood asserting itself. There was no guarantee, after all the blood had been dormant for four generations. Draco was on his bed screaming in agony but he must have heard enough of what his father told his mother. After three weeks of silence and with fire ripping through his veins Draco told his father in a pained hissed whisper, "I hate you".

Lucius and Narcissa had silenced the room and after the worst was over Draco had fallen into an exhausted sleep. When they had tried to check on him the next morning they found the door barred. Lucius was unable to breach the wards and it took little Muzzy to explain that since Master Lucius had abdicated mastery of his own home the magics of the family estate had passed to his son. The only way anyone was getting into that room was with Draco's permission.

Narcissa and Muzzy did not return but the hall was filling with Death Eaters. The Dark Lord was due to arrive any minute. There were plans for a major counter offensive. Potter and what little remained of The Order of the Phoenix had become more bold in there rebellion to The Dark Lord's new order since Bellatrix had visited Hogsmeade four weeks ago after executing the Malfoy elves. His psychotic sister-in-law had returned from the kitchens grabbed the body and left for Hogsmeade. A present, she said, for those blood traitors.

Looking around Lucius realized that everyone of note or rank was here. The Dark Lord was not a fan of tardiness and took every opportunity to punish for the infraction. He was not a Master to be kept waiting. Quiet descended on the hall's population like a fog rolling over London. Heads turned searching for the cause and some confusion was plain when it was not their Master that was commanding such presence. Instead of the Dark Lord there was another dark presence standing at the top of the staircase. With his head half bowed this dark figure surveyed the rooms population, some 40-50 individuals, through half closed eyes that were black as night. Lucius had just turned to the stairs when the figure began to descend. He was perhaps the only one there that knew that this person was not some new dark creature ally that the Dark Lord had bargained with.

Pale blonde hair hung lank and loose around the figures face and bare shoulders. With a height of about 6'2" and a physique to make most young witches faint and drown in their own drool, the man that entered the room was quite impressive. He wore black slacks low on his narrow hips and his chest and feet were bare. Lucius looked upon him and despaired.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs he kept moving with purposeful steps into the center of the gathering. Death Eaters in their dark cloaks shifted aside on instinct allowing him to pass through unobstructed. When he reached the center of the room he stopped and turned his head slowly until his eyes came to rest on Lucius. At that moment what had appeared at first to be a dark cloak on his back began to shift and move on it's own. The dark mass on the figure's back lifted separated and spread out. The dark mass unfurled into wings with a rather impressive spread. The lights in the hall flared and bright light flooded the room and reflected off the wings. Each individual feather appeared to be made of onyx tipped in silver

"Son." Lucius was lost. The family journals had never mentioned anything like this. Something horrible had happened to his little dragon. His hastily constructed plans to locate and bring his son's mate to the Manor now lay on the edge of a knife. The ancestral blood magic should have, according to the journals, presented his son with a vision of his mate shortly after the transformation was complete. They should have been making plans to retrieve the young woman five or six days ago.

When Lucius addressed him Draco raised his head to look his father square in the face with his black eyes. He flexed and fisted his hands by his sides and his wings stretched and shivered.

"Father." His tone cold and flat.

"Son, we need to talk later about your vision. We'll find her and bring her to you, I swear it."

The silver tipped onyx feathers glinted in the light and there was a rather ominous silence before Draco responded. "My Mate, my angel, my wife is dead. Your choices father, have ended your family line. The Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy ended four weeks ago. My angel died by my hand."

Lucius was stunned and after a moment to process what Draco told him fat tears rolled down his cheeks. In sad resignation he nodded his head once to his son and sank to his knees with his head down. The Malfoy patriarch found an odd moment to be grateful for his wife's absence and could only pray that the summons to Draco's room meant she was held blameless to this tragedy.

Draco's head then turned and slowly located certain individuals. Bellatrix, Greyback, and Dolohov to name a few. His mind had carefully crafted a list of those he knew had hurt his angel. He relaxed his fists lifted his hands and with a quick flip of both wrists sealed the Manor. No one would be getting in or out. Instinctively Draco knew what his wings and dagger like feathers were capable of. The silver tipping would come in quite handy with Greyback in attendance.

XxXxXxX

The self styled Lord Voldemort and proven Dark Lord was more than a tad irked when he could not apparate directly into Malfoy Manor as was his custom. He found himself standing outside the main gates. The manor itself was ablaze. The roof was collapsing while huge flames with suspicious animal like characteristics feasted and fed the huge pillars of smoke into the sky. Tom Riddle felt it when the wards failed right after the second and third stories crashed to the ground floor.

TBC

a.n. Ok, hard part is done. The story cheers up after this. How is that you say? Well, there's no where to go but up of course.


	2. Freud's Psychoanalysis of Pancake Batter

**Chapter 2: Freud's Psychoanalysis of Pancake Batter**

**September 2, 1993**

Hermione was in a soft, warm, and dark space. Nothing could touch her here. She was safe. Gradually awareness filtered in on the edge of her consciousness and her sense of touch started to register in her sluggish mind. Her fingers brushed against sheeting and she realized she was in a bed. With a jerk and jolt out of that warm and comfortable bed she found herself crouched behind it and her hands immediately went to where her wand and beaded bag should be. Nothing. Hermione looked down just long enough to register in the growing pre-dawn light she was wearing pajamas. Wary of her environment, especially un-armed, she started to survey her surroundings from her position behind the bed.

What she saw when she peaked around the bedpost was not something she had even remotely anticipated. There were two other beds in the room besides her own and as her eyes adjusted she realized that this looked remarkably like the girls dorm in Gryffindor Tower. Certain she was under some sort of enchantment to induce a false sense of security she pushed her body back into the corner by the head of the bed. Hermione's back pushed into something lumpy and knocked whatever it was over. Turning to look she saw her school book bag with it's contents spilling out onto the floor. The title of one book in particular caught her attention "Standard Book of Spells: Year Three". Upon further investigation, which could more accurately be described as dumping and ransacking, Hermione found all of the books for her ridiculously over-loaded third year course schedule. A schedule that would have been far more agreeable had she never taken Divination in the first place. Had she not been Hermione Granger with her staunch belief in authority figures she would have been far more amenable to borrowing from one of her Grandfather's favorites, The Three Stooges, and given Trelawney a good poke in that third eye of hers.

What was more telling perhaps was what she didn't find in her bag. No class schedule or homework assignments or class notes. Just plenty of blank parchment. Hermione brought slightly shaky fingers up to her neck and dipped her finger just slightly under the collar of her pajama shirt. The chain she found and pulled out was sturdy but looked delicate and was extremely light weight. In her hands she cradled the hourglass pendant of the Timeturner.

Keeping her head down she slowly put her hand up and moved it along the edge of her side dresser until her fingers hit what she was looking for. Her wand safely in her grasp Hermione cast a quick Date and Tempus to confirm her suspicion of _September 2, 1993, 5:52AM_. The evidence around her certainly seemed to point to the first morning of classes of her third year at Hogwarts. With her wand firmly in her grasp she carefully stood up and padded quietly over to one of her room mate's beds and then the other. Lavendar and Pavarti were still deeply asleep. Hermione exhaled and released some of the pent up anxiety while she wiped her non-wand hand over her face and into her hair. She was starting to come down and decided that a nice long hot shower was exactly what she needed.

XxXxXxX

The Great Hall was practically empty while Hermione sat with a text open in front of her. She had managed to settle her churning thoughts during her half hour shower and came to the perfectly satisfactory conclusion that the close proximity exposure to the dementors yesterday and the other various sundry stressors in her life combined with the idea and capability of time travel and led her sub-conscious to dump one hell of nightmare on her. She gave herself points for having such an active imagination and actively worked on brushing the rest out of her mind.

Three chapters of Transfiguration later Ron and Harry joined her at the table. The Hall had been filling with people and when it appeared to be near capacity the heads of house started making their way through the house tables handing out course schedules. Hermione did experience some deja vu when Ron looked at her schedule but told herself that knowing Ron's disposition made him woefully predictable and so she brushed it off.

XxXxXxX

Across the Great Hall a young man sat at the Slytherin table eating a light breakfast and quietly watching the people around him and one person in particular that wasn't sitting near him. The fringe of his blonde hair fell over his grey eyes as he tried not to make it too obvious to his house mates where his eyes kept wandering to. When Pansy asked if he was feeling alright he had mumbled out a facsimile of a response referencing lack of sleep. Not entirely inaccurate considering the condition he'd been in shortly before waking in his bed this morning around a quarter to six.

Draco wasn't sure what to make of this new situation. He'd turned 18 just one week ago and now he found himself five years younger. He'd stared at his left forearm for a good ten minutes while standing in the shower this morning. The last week had been hell (more so than usual) for him. The dark mark had faded from his teen age body during his transformation. There is no room for dual-loyalty in his adult life and his magical inheritance had cleansed him of his Father's master. The last five years could have been the nightmare to end all nightmares if it wasn't for the slumbering presence he could feel deep inside. It wasn't a separate consciousness, he knew that much. It could be better described perhaps as a level of his magical strength and instinct related to it that his younger body would be incapable of handling. What he did have was a sense of contentment and rightness when his eyes wandered to the Gryffindor table. The slumbering instinct almost seemed to purr during his contemplation of the girl across the room reading her text book.

While drying off from his shower he decided that he would do everything he could to change the dark and dangerous future they were racing towards. His decision was why he was late to breakfast this morning. Draco had made a visit to the Room of Requirement and settled himself into a therapy session consisting of blasting hexes and the vanishing cabinet that had enslaved him during his sixth year.

TBC


	3. BestLaid Plans of Hippogriffs & Weasels

**Chapter 3: The Best Laid Plans of Hippogriffs and Weasels**

**September 2, 1993; Afternoon**

Draco's morning classes had been much the same as last time and lunch was remarkably uneventful, especially since he hadn't bothered with his typical saunter over to the Gryffindor table to taunt and annoy. He was planning on his afternoon being just as uneventful. Draco was actually going to pay attention in Care of Magical Creatures and avoid a trip to the hospital wing. It just happened to be a bonus that he wouldn't end up carried around by Hagrid again. Seriously, that man needed to bathe a little more frequently. Maybe this year he would take bets with the twins on which professor would give in first: Snape's hair or Hagrid's...well, just about anything. One more major benefit to not annoying the beasties today is that he wouldn't have to suffer through Pansy cooing all over his "injured" arm while simultaneously clinging to it like a limpet. Maybe that's why her nose is turned up the way it is, oh well, no matter.

After Hagrid explained to the Slytherins and Gryffindors how to properly approach a hippogriff he asked for volunteers. Draco was just getting ready to step forward as he had decided he just couldn't help trying to show up the great Harry Potter. As expected the rest of the class had stepped back and Harry hadn't really noticed yet. The surprise though came when Hermione stepped forward and raised her hand. That snapped Harry out of it and he looked around only to quickly scramble back into the pack of students and properly hit the Weasel for leaving him hanging like that. Draco's own volunteering was momentarily halted by this surprising shift in the time line. Of course it might have also had something to do with the fact that she hadn't been standing close enough to the ginger menace for him to be able to haul her back with him like last time. One thing Draco has never been accused of is being oblivious. It did of course make a certain amount of sense that she would be just as eager to be the first to raise her hand in this class as in every other she had ever taken during her Hogwarts education. No one could ever describe Hermione Granger as a wall flower.

XxXxXxX

Morning classes had been exciting and her anticipation for using the timeturner and how it would work was gloriously accurate. Lunch was certainly a welcome event. She would need to carefully plan ahead to have a snack or two in her book bag on heavy mornings like today. After all, her new schedule effectively doubled the time between meals in the Great Hall and she was ravenous by the time lunch had rolled around.

This afternoon was the first class of the day that Harry had really been looking forward to because Hagrid was now a professor. Hermione was a little cautious in her excitement because the magical creatures that Hagrid typically liked to care for were more temperamental than any third year would be able to handle. During the train ride home at the end of last year Ron had joked with Harry that it was probably a good thing Hagrid wasn't in the Chamber of Secrets. He probably would have wanted to keep the basilisk. "Arogog, meet my new pet. Isn't he interesting? Wait! Arogog, don't run. Come back!" That had kept Harry entertained for almost an hour.

The boys were laughing and shoving each other while they made their way down to the paddock where class was to be held today. Taking attendance just didn't seem to be too high on Hagrid's list of things to do especially when there is some new interesting critter he just has to show off. Hermione's heart just about dropped into her shoes though when Buckbeak was introduced to the class. Hagrid was asking for someone to volunteer introducing themselves to the hippogriff. -And we mustn't forget to bow must we?- Hermione inhaled a steady breath and held it a few seconds before she stepped forward. _I will not be ruled by my fears. I will not cower and hide. But I also will NOT be riding Buckbeak. If Hagrid so much as tries to come near me to put me up there I think I'll throw up and worry about being embarrassed later._ Hermione bowed, Buckbeak bowed, and she idly wondered what would have happened if she'd curtsied instead. _Wait, is the gender of the hippogriff important to determine how you greet them?_

Hermione was busy stroking the feathers on Buckbeak's neck. She didn't notice who the next volunteer was until Beaky's head lifted and his attention was focused forward. Her eyes bugged out and she almost swallowed her tongue when she saw the top of Malfoy's blonde head while he bowed. The hippogriff was of course ignorant to the thoughts racing through Hermione's mind as they shifted from dead stop to Indy 500.

There was bowing going on all over the paddock while Hagrid was grouping students to hippogriffs. Hermione stood to one side of that big silky feathery neck while Draco took up position on the other side of it. He wasn't sneering or gloating. In fact he seemed to be thoroughly pre-occupied and even a might fascinated with Buckbeak. Well, he was until she realized that he was now looking at her.

"Afternoon Granger. I realize your a brave little lioness and all that but I honestly thought Potter would be the first to step up. Why did you?"

She was a bit gobsmacked at how non-condescending his voice was. In fact if he wasn't a Slytherin and especially not Malfoy than she would have believed that it was a sincere conversation starter. Her wide eyed confusion and slight choking sound brought an amused lift to the side of Draco's mouth. He decided to let it slide and store this moment for later teasing rights. After all, the biggest and most important thing he needed to change was his relationship with this young lady. His sleeping instincts were purring again and it felt weird, nice but weird.

Most of the class was grouped up by now and only about 2 or 3 Slytherins were left. One Pansy Parkinson had spent all day trying desperately to catch Draco's attention and so far she had drawn a blank. She was not used to being ignored or brushed off. In fact, now would be a perfect opportunity to have some alone time and be the center of his attention.

Hermione had finally managed to remember her manners, _gosh wouldn't mother be proud of her_, and start to formulate a response. She never got the chance though because there was a rather distinct high pitched whine simpering "Oh, Dray Dray, I'll be your partner!"

_Incoming idiot_. Draco's eyes widened and he winced and then realization set in. Buckbeak was getting really agitated and Parkinson was inbound with no respect or thought. As Buckbeak reared up Draco moved forward and pulled Hermione into his arms while he bent forward and curled his body around her. Hermione's head was securely tucked under his chin and his arms were wrapped completely around her. He felt an impact on his back and could hear girls screaming and some of the boys shouting. Hagrid was clearing Buckbeak and the other hippogriffs back to where they had been kept before class started.

Harry and Ron moved as fast as they could through their classmates. "Hermione!"

Draco straightened and put his hands on her shoulders to turn her so he could check her for injuries. "Are you alright? You're unhurt?" Hermione was a bit bug eyed again. Honestly she was feeling like she'd landed in another reality or even perhaps been dumped into Wonderland. Facing off with the Queen of Hearts would be about on par with Draco Malfoy having manners. "Get off my girl Malfoy!" Ron Weasley pushed himself in front of Hermione and pushed Draco away.

XxXxXxX

Chaos reined when Hagrid made is his way back to the students and tried to figure out what had gone wrong. Perhaps the most interesting part was that the waring factions weren't even totally separated by houses. As he made his way into the center of the throng of shouting and shoving students he discovered that the two combatants were Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter were actually working together trying to keep Hermione from doing permanent damage to the boy with the overly used big mouth. Some of the things he was shouting in her face would have made Hagrids beard curl if any more curl would even be possible. Blaise Zabini and Neville Longbottom were trying to haul Ron back away and Dean Thomas was sprawled and the ground and trying to scramble out from under Ron's feet while Theo Nott was working his way between the two combatants.

Pansy Parkinson was standing near the back of the mostly green side and clasping her hands in front of her chest and alternating cooing and fretting about the damage those ruffians were doing to her poor Dray Dray.

XxXxXxX

Draco hadn't even realized he was hurt all that badly until after Hagrid had broken up the fight and started escorting the weasel menace up to the castle. Hermione had turned around and glanced at her hand that he had just let go of. He watched her eyes travel from her hand to his and up his arm as she stepped around him and discovered for herself how bad it was. The back of his robes and uniform were sliced and he was bleeding steadily. This pain was almost nothing in comparison to all of the crap he had gone through as a slave under You-No-Poo and everything during and after his transformation. The bright side was that he wouldn't have to take the Hagrid express to the infirmary this time.

XxXxXxX

Minerva McGonagall had a headache. Headmaster Dumbledore had seen fit to summon the Malfoys to visit a son who had insisted that he was fine and that his father's presence was not needed.

Lucius Malfoy and Draco Malfoy were currently going head to head in a heated debate over who carried the blame for today's mishap. Draco was more than willing to lay the stupidity at Pansy's feet and his father was insistent that as a prominent pureblood she would know better than to "cause a scene". The younger Malfoy was quick to retort that "causing a scene" was all she seemed to know how to do.

Dumbledore defended Hagrid and ultimately Lucius decided that the disturbance could be blamed on the hippogriff.

TBC


	4. Cat on a Hot Tin Dilemma

**Chapter 4: Cat on a Hot Tin Dilemma**

**Still September 2; Bedtime**

After saying goodnight to Harry and studiously ignoring Ronald, Hermione made her way up that "Y" chromosome proof staircase and into her dorm room. Crookshanks was lounging on her pillow like the aristocratic fluff ball that he was and viewing his domain while his tail casually twitched to and fro. From his regal vantage point the half kneezle observed his mistress open her trunk and pull out a brightly colored box. She carefully ripped back the paper at the top and shook out some of the contents on to the end of the bed. "Here you go handsome, come get your Crackerjacks." After a good long stretch he casually picked his way down the bedspread by sniffing out the best spots to put his paws. In no way did he want her to think that he got up from his warm spot just because she put out his favorite snack.

While Crookshanks was crunching away Hermione walked to the head of the bed noted the large amount of orange fur and flipped her pillow over. She then pulled the folded over blanket up to cover the pillow and made a mental note to make alternate arrangements for someone's furry little backside. If that didn't work, it never did before, than she would just store the pillow in her trunk during the day. There would be plenty of room for it after she finished charming the new substitute for her beaded bag. She felt almost naked without it and it wouldn't be noticeable under her school robes.

Her first day of third year classes was exciting in some ways and terrifying in others. The material for all of her new electives was...well, nothing new. This bothered her tremendously. If it hadn't been for all of that excitement this afternoon during Care of Magical Creatures than she...oh, who was she trying to kid? The excitement didn't change the fact that Hagrid had brought in hippogriffs and specifically one named Buckbeak. Regardless of the details there were some key points that remained unchanged. A Slytherin had not been following directions and Malfoy had been hurt by Buckbeak.

Hermione was not a seer and she never had premonitions. Really bad feelings perhaps but what red blooded female doesn't? Buckbeak had even felt and looked the same as she remembered including the jelly bean shaped brown spot on the side of his underbelly. Considering he's a magical creature that would make it a Bertie Bott bean and she didn't even want to know which of the every flavors that color would represent. Shaking her head to clear the rabbit trails didn't really help her headache. With her bed time routine now finished Hermione slid into bed and pulled her curtains closed. She then used her wand to silence and lock them before tucking the wand under her pillow where it could be easily reached.

After pulling her hand out she spent the next five minutes detangling all the orange fur from around her fingers. Hermione hadn't understood it at the time but when she brought Crooks home this summer and showed him off her father had just started laughing and muttered something about great aunt Nettie as he was leaving the room. When she was fifteen she and her mother had been looking through some old family photos when they came across one of Nettie in her living room. The sofa she was sitting on had a plastic cover.

The fact that her nightmare that morning had seen fit to integrate such a small detail bothered her. Divination was woolly at best and she desperately wanted to go see Professor McGonagall about dropping the class. Laying here in bed she tried to relax but she couldn't get her thoughts to settle. There were so many daily details about third year that she couldn't remember. But that only made sense since it was five years ago. HA! Yeah, a five year long nightmare involving people that she'd never met nor heard of before.

Her stop by the library earlier this evening had only managed to rile her up more. Nymphadora Tonks stared back at her from a year book page. In a different year book she found the younger but recognizable face of a certain rat. There was another picture in that same year book of four friends together who were more than a tad infamous for their pranks. This was information she shouldn't know yet and was certain her subconscious couldn't just conjure on a whim. Where her mind was taking her just didn't seem possible. If this was indeed a matter of long distance time travel than she had no explanation for how it had happened. Her last memories, though a bit fuzzy on the details, were riddled with pain and agony. Just thinking about it left her shaking and reaching for her wand again.

So what did this leave her with? She had no idea, but Hermione just could not blindly accept that she had mysteriously time traveled. There had to be some reasonable explanation for her frighteningly accurate premonitions and deja vus. After all, not everything was the same. Sure the morning was almost dead on in eerie familiarity but the afternoon had been almost completely different despite the key similarities. Now she had a headache. What she needed was time to research in the library but with her extended course schedule her homework was going to consume a monumental chunk of her time. She would of course need to carve out some of that time over the coming months to help Hagrid with Buckbeak's defense and appeal. There was no doubt in her mind that Mr. Malfoy would be just as irksome and determined this time as last.

Sweet Merlin, there she goes again. If she was to be completely honest with herself then Hermione had to admit that at least a part of her had already decided that some form of time travel was involved but she simply couldn't accept it without some reasonable explanation. Especially since there were key differences from today to what she remembered. If by some near impossible chance she had traveled back in time than her volunteering to be first with Buckbeak somehow altered Malfoy's behavior. That was, of course, ludicrous. There simply had to be some other explanation. So, she cringed to even consider it, she would stay enrolled in Divination and somehow carve time out of her study schedule to research her predicament.

XxXxXxX

"She's a nightmare Harry!" Ron didn't seem to be too bothered by the dirty looks from several of his house mates. It didn't sit too well with the girls when they heard about what had happened and the boys were embarrassed and angry that their chances with the girls were now tarnished.

"Ron! Quiet down. You really need to just let it go. She's not your girlfriend and at this rate I really don't think she ever will be." Harry's statement obviously wasn't winning him points with Ron but after class today Harry was feeling the need for a bit of distance from him.

Seamus and Dean usually tried to stay as far away from these domestic debates as possible so Harry was a bit surprised to see them sit down on either side of Ron boxing him in. Dean, who had ended up under Ron's kicking feet earlier, was not inclined to pull any punches. "Ron, you were an ass to a young lady today. Doesn't matter who she is, it's just not done." Seamus added in with, "You'll apologize to her tomorrow morning at breakfast and you'll mean it or we'll cycle around a letter about today's events and have all the witnesses sign it before we owl it to your mum." Ron's face went deathly white and he looked to Harry for help. Harry shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest while he leaned back in his chair. "Apologize Ron. It's the right thing to do."

XxXxXxX

Draco was laying on his stomach in a bed in the infirmary. He just wasn't tired enough yet to sleep. The pain wasn't bothering him but Madame Pomfrey and insisted that he stay. Apparently his muscles were going to take two or three days to properly mend.

His argument with his father was still fresh in his mind. Seeing the man again this soon was unexpected. Last time around he'd just written a letter home about his "tragic" experience. This time he had to see the man alive and breathing less than 24 hours after he'd killed him.

Dealing with his father and getting him to accept Hermione without exposing any of his knowledge of the future or his unexpected and secret inheritance was going to be impossible at best. Especially if this evening was anything to go by. Someone had said something to his father about his protecting a muggleborn student while receiving his injuries. Lucius had not had anything to say that would be appropriate for mixed company or minors.

Draco was going to have to face some life changing decisions in how to deal with his father. If it wasn't for the fact that the Minister was firmly tucked into the Malfoy's purse than anonymously handing evidence over to the DMLE would be pretty tempting. He already knew the only person of rank in the department who could be trusted NOT to take a bribe was Madame Bones. The woman was impeccably honest and Lucius had been overheard more than once complaining about her.

TBC


	5. An Interlude over Kentucky Fried Salad

**Chapter 5: An Interlude over Kentucky Fried Salad**

**September 3 - Lunch**

Madame Pomfrey had just finished restocking the potions cabinet when Draco's lunch tray was delivered. He already knew it wouldn't be a heavy meal so it wouldn't hinder the effectiveness of the potions he was taking for a speedy recovery. Professor Snape had stopped by earlier to drop off a box of potions for the infirmary and to check up on Draco as well as drop off his lessons for the day. It seems there were advantages to having a teacher bring the lessons instead of another student. Teachers were able to get the material from their co-workers before the lesson had even commenced.

Halfway through his egg salad sandwich Theo and Blaise came through the doors and made their way over to his bed. Blaise, being the more outspoken of the duo, started the conversation. "Draco, you would not believe what happened this morning during breakfast. You missed an amazing show over at the Gryffindor table. I never would have thought after yesterday that the Weasel would apologize, especially to her, supposed friend or not."

"Blood traitor maybe but he's still a pureblood and even light wizards have a hard time living blood equality no matter what they say." Theo was usually right about these types of observations. Draco couldn't help but agree with him. "That's true, and you don't have to look any further than Hogwarts staff to see that. So, tell me what happened."

"Granger was early to breakfast like she normally is but instead of getting out a book and waiting for her friends she started packing up early. Pretty obvious she had no intention of sticking around but they came in earlier than expected. Several Gryffindors all came down to breakfast before they normally do, it was like a bloody parade. The Weasel finally made an entrance followed by Potter and the rest of his house mates." After that bit of narrative Blaise decided to help himself to Draco's chips.

"The apology was short and seemed a bit forced but it was public."

"Good. What he said to her was unacceptable." Draco wasn't really looking at either of them while he finished his food but he could feel their calculated looks.

XxXxXxX

The egg salad was good today, especially since Ron was devouring the turkey like it was going out of style. With the exception of breakfast the rest of the morning had been comfortably predictable. Her current plan was to simply live each day with her eyes wide open. Hopefully wasting her time in Divination would provide her with some information though she sincerely doubted it. Perhaps Seamus' idea had merit though, a pint or two before class would make Trelawney almost tolerable. Instead of beer, which she didn't have, Hermione had decided to survive Divination in other ways. For example: she discovered that if you tilted your head just right and removed the coke bottle glasses Professor Trelawney bore a passing resemblance to a young woman photographed often in the company of a young Gilderoy Lockhart.

As she headed towards her next class Hermione contemplated this mornings, pleasantly unexpected, events. She was under no delusions about the public apology though. Hermione was keenly aware that the entourage of Gryffindors was there for one purpose only. It was the driving force behind it that she didn't understand. Ron's behavior had always been overlooked and ignored by the general populace. Harry had certainly never bothered to call him on anything. This morning managed to stun her into a rather intelligent "Uh, yeah, sure Ron." In response to his beat red complexion after he stammered out a "Sorry for yesterday. I was out of line." The last half was spoken in her general direction while he looked over his shoulder, but his height was such that she couldn't easily discern to where he was looking. There was over half a dozen bodies belonging to housemates including Harry. But she just couldn't believe that Ron was being forced into a public apology by Harry. She hated to think it but the cold hard fact was that Harry had never worn the pants in that relationship. No wonder he was all primed for Ginny.

XxXxXxX

That evening she decided to do something new and unexpected simply because another round of deja vu was likely to give her a migraine. So Hermione found herself tending some of Hagrid's newly hatched chicks while she studiously ignored the smell of dead ferret. The fact that the flock needed to be rebuilt was to be expected after Ginny's Lizzie Borden the previous year. She just about fell over her own feet though when Hagrid introduced her to the king of the flock, or rather the "Colonel". He really was a sleek looking rooster with his glistening black feathers. They had a almost oily appearance though and combined with the beak he was beginning to remind her of Professor Snape. Hagrid assured her that he was a very sensible rooster though and apparently had a fondness for one flighty young hen in particular that had been named Maryanne.

TBC


	6. A Class That Will Live in Infamy

**Chapter 6: A Class That Will Live in Infamy**

**September 9**

Breakfast in the Great Hall had never tasted so good before. Of course, the fact that he was able to eat in the Great Hall may have made all the difference. It absolutely boggled the mind. He found himself a bit stymied that regardless of his efforts it had still been a week before he was allowed to return to class. The first time, Draco had to admit, he was milking it for everything it wasn't worth. A stupid little scratch that got him out of a full weeks worth of class. This time his back was ripped open and he did his utmost to get on with his life. Three and a half days in the hospital wing and then a conspiracy between his father and his head of house to keep him well rested. He wasn't stupid. He had been confined to his room as punishment for protecting someone of questionable birth that was so obviously below his station. Speaking of station just where did Lucius think their station was in the grand scheme of things? Aristocracy just didn't seem to define it quite well enough. And since the Queen of Britain was muggle what did that mean in terms of "below his station"? Draco shook his head and took another sip of his orange juice. He idly wondered, not for the first time, if the muggleborns were even aware that there was something other than pumpkin juice available.

He was finally released from solitary to discover that it was eggs benedict morning. Two servings and some extra holindais later he was on his way to potions. All that time to himself wasn't without a silver lining though. Pansy wasn't allowed in the boys dorms and by the time she finally rolled out of bed and made it to breakfast the bench he was sitting on will have had the chance to cool down.

The long walk felt wonderful and he took the time to work his back muscles to ensure they didn't lock up on him. Trying to prep potions ingredients without full range of motion was not a good way to start his day. Other than being as antagonistic as possible he wasn't really sure what he remembered from before besides the basics. No one had ever accused him of having a photographic memory and it wasn't as though he had any desire to let things play out the same as last time anyway. Because goodness knows that had worked out so well for everyone the first time through.

Snape swept through the gathered students and Draco found a seat and set up his work station. He was determined that the great divide between the snakes and the lions be gradually breached and today would be the perfect opportunity to make steps in that direction. He selected a table behind and just over from where Hermione always sat. Blaise took up the seat next to him and wisely kept silent while this odd dotted line or chain effect linked Draco's table to the snakes side of the room. The Gryffindors took what seats they could while warily keeping an eye on the encroaching Slytherins.

After the class started brewing it wasn't long before Weasley was well on his way to messing up Potter's potion and Hermione was trying to help Neville through his bumbling issues. Draco looked up just in time to see Professor Snape start homing in like a pigeon in full gail. He had this brief memory flash of Hermione's face and her wounded expression before he leaned over and did the unthinkable. "Hey, Longbottom. Step back, breath, and check the instructions before you add the next ingredient. You're not the only one in the blast zone you know."

XxXxXxX

Professor Snape wasn't really sure what to make of the latest developments with his third year Slythins and Gryffindors. Draco's injury and the subsequent fight in Care of Magical Creatures the week before was strange but the boy's firm stance and defense of the circumstances were even more perplexing. The troubling part was watching Draco go toe to toe with Lucius, a man that Draco had always done everything in his power to please and appease in his desperate search for acceptance.

Today's Double Potions class provided him with more intriguing and disturbing behavior between the two normally warring house factions. Draco and Blaise sitting firmly within Gryffindor territory ended up being just the beginning. The Slytherins were following Draco's lead and as a whole were far less malicious than any other average day. He was stopped dead in his tracks when the boy had actually stepped in to stop Longbottom from blowing up half of the classroom. Draco's intervention had actually managed to save the Granger girl from losing points. Fortunately for Severus Snape he was still able to deduct points from Gryffindor by changing the target of his ire to Potter and Weasley.

XxXxXxX

Draco was leaning against the wall in his Defense Against the Dark Arts class and watching the other students interact while they tried to guess what the new Defense professor was going to show them. The fact that there was always a new Defense professor just seemed to be a forgone conclusion. If Draco had been in any doubt whatsoever about the content of today's lesson than it was most certainly laid to rest when he saw the wardrobe. The boggart seemed to have ants in the pants or whatever a boggart had that passed for pants. Were boggarts really nudists and secretly laughing at wizard's ignorance of their invisible nudity? Perhaps the thing a wizard truly feared was seeing a boggart in it's natural form and the creature was really doing the wizard a favor. Or perhaps he shouldn't have had that second helping of cod with extra mustard and sour kraut at lunch.

Professor Lupin had started his introduction and Draco was careful to keep his attention focused on the area where Potter and Weasley were standing. Hermione's hand went into the air almost simultaneously as she blinked into existence. Weasley's question of "When'd she get here?" went unanswered and Draco wasn't about to assist him with free information.

Blaise elbowed Theo and both boys watched the twitch on Draco's face that was threatening to develop into a tiny grin. What really caught their attention though was the softness edging into Draco's features around his eyes.

He was lost in his memories. Five year old memories involving confusion, suspicion, surveillance, and outrageous theories before a plausible explanation had satisfied his obsession. For some reason he never understood he'd kept her secret and never even hinted that he'd figured it out. This particular boggart lesson was actually the beginning of it all. He had been in just the right spot to know for a fact that there was no way she could have been there before she simply was. Hermione Granger had a secret that he just had to know. It took months but he eventually figured it out. That last surveillance mission was one he had roped Crabbe and Goyle into. Draco had arranged for each of them to be near the doors of three different classes all at the same time. As it so happened, so was she.

The door to the cabinet flying open brought Draco's attention back to the class at hand and he watched boggart Snape experience drag gone bad. The students lined up per instruction and the screams and laughter mixed and alternated for awhile until the person in front of him moved away and it was now Draco's turn. In that split moment before the boggart shifted again Draco realized his lack of judgement. Per prior knowledge he already knew that anyone in line behind Potter wouldn't get the opportunity for a practical in class today. Now he sincerely wished that he had planned ahead before the boggart centered its attention on him.

XxXxXxX

Hermione was in the library exactly where she had told Ron and Harry that she would be. She had promised to meet them for dinner but at the rate she was going she might have to use the time turner for something other than classes. Not that she had ever done that before. No, of course not. She would never use this very dangerous device against the rules that Professor McGonagall had so severely late out for her and that she had sworn so faithfully to adhere to. No, Hermione Granger was not the kind of person to use the time turner for something so crazy as to, let's say, save two innocent but condemned parties while running about with a werewolf and herds of dementors because that's just ridiculous. So she most certainly could never use it for eating dinner on time because she'd gotten lost in her thoughts.

She didn't like how she felt. Lost and adrift and desperately trying to hold on to something steady. But when she did the deja vus struck again and she liked that even less. The last six days had been blissfully steady but far too predictable and familiar. She tried desperately not to expect something before it happened but there were times when she just couldn't help it. How could she resist when Colin had run down into the Common Room with yellow feathers sticking out of his ears. Hermione knew and firmly expected Dennis to join him tripping over his newly acquired birds feet and squawking through a beak. The brothers had obviously been on the receiving end of some experimental canary creams.

The tedium of predictability ceased that morning during Potions. Malfoy was back in class just as expected but he was a lot quieter than she remembered. The taunting and baiting of Harry and conversations about Sirius Black were simply absent. The obvious differences had completely escaped her attention until she had taken time before lunch to think about why she didn't have deja vu. At this point she was simply chalking his change in demeanor up to how severely he had been injured the week prior. Potions class was different. Hermione couldn't put her finger on it but she was certain that class was distinctly different from what she remembered/dreamed? Hadn't she been in trouble last time? And since when has Malfoy ever concerned himself with preventing one of Neville's accidents?

The only notable event during lunch was when Dean challenged Ron to put four rolls in his mouth and be able to keep his mouth shut. Pavarti had pitched in with a comment, "Not possible. Ron hasn't even figured out how to keep his mouth shut when chewing one roll." Hermione caved to her darker side and placed a bet with the twins just to get them back for the 'magic' brownie incident a couple days previous. Five galleons richer and she had Defense Against the Dark Arts to look forward to.

The boggart made an appearance and Neville committed granny-fication on the image of Professor Snape. The line moved forward and she was behind Harry just like she remembered. She wasn't nervous about facing the boggart because she knew when Professor Lupin would end the lesson. Hermione knew, she knew...she, Harry didn't even get a chance. Why, oh why hadn't she been paying closer attention? Hermione didn't even really know what had happened but the room had gone dead quiet before there was a loud keening sound coming from the front of the line. It was the most heart wrenching thing she had ever heard. Professor Lupin was trying to get in front of the boggart while Zabini and Nott had pushed forward to physically pick up the student making that horrid sound. As Harry shifted his weight to his right foot Hermione was finally able to work out that Malfoy was the one in obvious agony. He had collapsed and completely shut down from outside stimuli. Professor Lupin banished his full moon back into the wardrobe and directed the boys to take Malfoy to the infirmary. Those that were closer to the front couldn't help of course but to talk about what they had seen. Malfoy's boggart was apparently a body of a young woman with brown hair. Between eye witness speculation and Malfoy's own reaction to seeing the body it was obvious to Hermione that the woman was dead.

How very different. His boggart had changed, why? This she remembered distinctly because Ron and Harry had had no limit to the amount of joking and teasing that had been at Malfoy's expense about his boggart. The insufferable pampered prince of Slytherin who was constantly crying home to dear old daddy was afraid he wasn't pompous enough for his own father. Malfoy had been afraid of his father's rejection. Not really funny after everything she now knew and had lived through. She would never forget what he'd looked like during sixth year. And that blasted bathroom incident was the cause of the only time she had ever slapped Harry.

Was Malfoy afraid of this woman dying or was she already dead? Who was she? No one seemed to know as her face had been turned away but he obviously recognized her. A girl that meant so much to Draco Malfoy that he would be completely inconsolable at the loss of her. Hermione desperately searched her memories of all their time at Hogwarts, everything she knew about the Malfoys and couldn't think of a single person in Malfoy's life that he had ever cared about besides himself and his parents. She could only assume that the girl is a pureblood and doesn't attend Hogwarts. Was she French?  
Hermione's thoughts were interupted by the abrupt reminder from her stomach that she hadn't eaten since lunch. After checking the time she didn't even stop to worry about frivolity before she moved off into the stacks and pulled out her timeturner. Carefully avoiding her own position at the table she had just moved away from, Hermione made her way out of the library and down to the Great Hall. She wasn't sure what she expected or why she even bothered to check but Malfoy wasn't at dinner. Parkinson appeared to be a particularly vile shade of green and glared at her plate as though it had committed some heinous offense. Zabini and Nott weren't in attendance and Professor Snape was absent from the staff table.

It had started again. Hermione could feel the itch growing inside of her that she simply would never be able to ignore. It had happened more times before than she'd care to admit and she'd always given in to it. Second year that same itch had driven her to brew polyjuice potion and she'd gotten a tail for her efforts. A mystery needed solving and the challenge of working around the Slytherins and snooping into their business appealed to her greatly.

TBC


End file.
